You wouldn’t know it just by listening to their music, but Circles are from France, not Washington. That doesn’t mean that they are DC copycats or that this is going to be one of those lazy articles that just namedrops bands and pigeonholes Circles for easiness sake. They aren’t and

Karen O’Sullivan wasn’t worried about going up. That’s why in the early 80s she went from Manhattan’s Upper West Side to the Lower East Side. She then started to photograph the burgeoning scenes of Hardcore Punk and Hip Hop. Most of her stuff has remained virtually unsung documentation, so all

How can you not love a label called Drunken Sailor? It reeks, fortunately, of bar fights, fortuitous sex, lousy wine and people who laugh in the face of danger. That pretty much sums up what rock’n’roll, and punk by association, should be and a lot of times aren’t. Partly because

As any real punk, Reducidos are underdogs. And they’re pissed about it because that’s the way it should be. You shouldn’t be singing about heartache when you live in a country where you can see a 10-year-old cleaning the windshield of a Mercedes at a red light in a busy

I always wanted to write this: Fuck Post-Rock. After rock, there’s nothing worth listening to. It’s either rock or it isn’t. And Post-rock is rock, even if it doesn’t follow the same rules. At least when it began, because now, there’s a post-rock band under every other rock (pun intended).

Forget comparisons, forget Xmal Deutschland, forget post-punk, death rock, goth and experimental music. Rakta are one of a kind and the only inhabitant of their native planet where the ambient sound is the jubilation of black witches gathering, dancing to the roar of a collapsing world. On the new record “Falha